On the Healing Properties of Hot Chocolate
by Elburn
Summary: Ever since the Ghostbusters had faced Gozer, Egon hadn't been sleeping well. This was for several reasons. Peter/Egon, if you squint. More of a friendship fic than anything else, though.


**A Treatise on the Healing Properties of Hot Chocolate**

_by Fiona Conn_

The burner on the hob clicked twice before hissing to life, blue flames encircling the base of the pan placed atop it. Measuring a cupful of milk, Egon poured it into the small pan, before replacing the carton in the fridge, and waiting for the milk to heat.

Pushing his glasses up his nose, he reached under them to rub his eyes. The other Ghostbusters were fast asleep – Ray curled up with his Stay Puft doll (how he could still find comfort in the marshmallow man, Egon wasn't entirely sure, after Gozer had taken that form at Ray's accidental willing), Winston with a slight frown decorating his brow, but otherwise at peace. Even Peter slept peacefully – it was funny how innocent the snarky psychologist could look while at rest.

Egon peered up at the clock, hung above the kitchen noticeboard, which ticked precisely, telling him it was half-past-three in the morning. He sighed – the Ghostbusters were due for an appointment with a client at 8am. It would be easy enough, he was sure – a couple of class twos and a class three had been bothering an older woman. While the ghosts generally had enough civility to obey her commanding presence, she felt she was getting a little old to be arguing with ghosts. If Egon managed to sleep at all, he would only be getting about two or three hours of sleep. The lower classed ghosts were straightforward enough, but trying to bust on very little sleep could result in a higher incidence of accidents.

The milk began to bubble around the edges, and Egon dumped three spoonfuls of cocoa powder into the milk, then added a teaspoon of honey, before stirring the sweet, milky mixture. The honey melted easily in the heat, and the gentle scent of chocolate rose from the pan. Satisfied that it was ready, Egon turned the heat off, and poured it into a mug.

Settling down with his mug of hot chocolate, he closed his eyes and inhaled the sweet, comforting scent, waiting for it to cool enough to a drinkable temperature. A stack of magazines sat on the table – Egon had retrieved old copies of various scientific magazines, and even bought a few extra to augment his collection, in the hope that reading would calm his mind enough to sleep. He was, he knew, physically tired – trying to keep his eyes open was becoming a chore. However, even if he shut his eyes, hoping the physical exhaustion would cause him to drift off, his mind would simply chatter away inanely, keeping him awake.

The problem had been on-going for several weeks, now. Ever since the Ghostbusters had faced Gozer, Egon hadn't been sleeping well. This was for several reasons. The first was the babbling stream of ideas for improvements to equipment. This he could easily tolerate, conveniently storing the ideas away in his memory until he was ready to implement them. The second brought a slight burning sensation to his cheeks as he remembered how his panic had overtaken his ability to think clearly, after Gozer had taken the form of Stay Puft. The third... he swallowed a hot mouthful of chocolate, trying to push it out of his mind. By logic, the four men should have died that night, on the rooftop, as they crossed the streams to create a total protonic reversal, closing the gates to Gozer's realm. It had taken nothing less than a miracle for them to survive the experience. Even now, Egon wondered if there were less obvious repercussions to their exposure to the reversed polarity of the streams, if the radiation might cause problems further down the line, if the sealed rift was only temporarily locked...

Reaching for a magazine, Egon sipped at his hot chocolate, trying to banish those thoughts from his mind with his reading material of choice.

***

The following morning's bust had gone as Egon had predicted: the class twos had been easy enough to corral into the traps, but the class three, in a manner similar to a misbehaved toddler, had created havok, and a mess of the poor woman's apartment. Peter had apologized thoroughly to the woman – something the boys rarely saw, though Egon suspected perhaps she reminded Peter of his mother. The older woman had been understanding and reassured him gently, even offering them cupcakes to take home by way of thanks.

Egon was vaguely aware of Peter's eyes watching him as they sat in the back of the Ecto-1, the physicist twiddling knobs on his PKE meter, checking the readings over again. While this was normal practice for Egon, to assist with calibrating their newer equipment and upgrades, it also gave him something to keep his attention on. He suppressed a yawn and rubbed his eyes, reaching under his glasses to do so, before returning to analyzing the recorded readings on the PKE meter.

As expected, he had only managed three hours of sleep before being roughly shaken awake by Winston that morning. The older man had given him a funny look – his eyebrow was arched as Egon had struggled into wakefulness, but his eyes spoke concern rather than censure. Given that Peter was now watching him like a hawk, he was fairly sure that Winston had mentioned it to the psychologist at some point that morning. Egon also knew that consequences wouldn't be far behind, and set about mentally preparing himself for the grilling he was sure Peter would give him.

***

Upon their return to the firehouse, Egon had escaped to the lab, citing upgrades and repairs that still needed to be done. While this was true, it was also an excuse to avoid Peter's piercing gaze. He knew would have to face it at some point, but... he wasn't entirely sure right now that he was ready to do so.

Per Egon's wishes, Peter had remained out of his way for much of the rest of the day, excepting for a couple of call-outs to take some ghosts back into custody that had escaped after Walter Peck had disabled the containment unit all those weeks ago. Evening came too quickly, and Egon stayed in his lab, long after the boys had gone to bed. Or, most of them, anyway.

At 3am, Egon stood up from his workbench, stretching his back and rolling his shoulders to try and soothe the tension in his muscles from hunching over his work for so long. Perhaps a mug of hot chocolate and then he would also retire to bed.

As he approached the kitchen, he could smell something... sweet... and warm, wafting from the stove. The light was also turned on.

Peter was already in the kitchen, stirring a brown, milky concoction in a pan. It was bubbling restlessly – he needed to keep the heat down, Egon thought. Peter smiled to Egon as the physicist walked through the doorway.

"I was wondering when to expect you," Peter said, his smile tugging itself into a small grin. He turned the hob off and divided the hot chocolate into two mugs, passing one to Egon. "It's not quite the same recipe as your own, but, here's hoping it will have the same effect."

"Thank you," Egon rumbled his appreciation and took the mug, cradling it carefully in his hands. Warmth radiated off the mug, sweet-smelling steam rising from the mix. He could feel Peter's gaze washing over him, taking in his stance, his expression, the exhaustion beginning to show itself in his eyes and the paleness of his complexion. He tried to relax, allowing the survey and trusting in Peter's judgment. Egon sipped at the hot chocolate – it was a little more bitter than he might make it, but palatable enough. Silence fell between both men.

"You haven't been yourself lately, Tex," Peter commented at last. "Winston tells me he had difficulty waking you yesterday morning, and you look like you haven't been sleeping. You want to tell Dr. Venkman what's going on?"

Egon took another sip of his hot chocolate, before letting loose a sigh through his nose. He closed his eyes briefly and nodded deliberately. "Your assessment, Peter, would be correct. I – I haven't been sleeping for some time, now." He paused, enfolding his other hand around the warm mug gripped at its handle, staring past Peter. "It has been a long time since I last felt this... terror... of the night." Now, his gaze returned to Peter's eyes. The psychologist recognized a distant, hollow yet haunted look in the physicist's eyes.

"How long has this been going on for?" Peter asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper. Professional concern conflicted with very personal worry, bleeding into his voice as he spoke.

Egon looked away for a couple of seconds, into his mug, and then said, "since we defeated Gozer."

Peter frowned, now, putting down his mug of hot chocolate. "Egon, why didn't you tell me? You know you can come to any one of us and we'd _help_ you. You _know_ that, right?"

"I –" Egon started, but Peter's stern gaze made it apparent that there was no excuse that would suffice as a reason for not being honest enough to share the problem with them. He fell silent, his gaze returning to the contents of his mug.

"There are things we can do, Egon, to help you sleep better, all right?" Peter said pointedly, trying to catch the physicist's eyes. "We can work on your sleep hygiene, we can work on relaxation techniques, we can talk about the things that are bothering you, and if you're still not sleeping after that, I know of some medications that might help you." He paused, then added more sternly, "but _dude_, you've _got_ _to tell me_ when you're having problems."

Egon felt heat rising in his cheeks, concealing it by taking another sip of his hot chocolate. Peter was, of course, entirely right. He should have trusted him. He should have trusted Ray and Winston too, on that thought. "You're right, Peter; I'm sorry."

Peter waved the apology away. "We'll call it even when I know you're getting a full night's sleep." He nodded to the mug in Egon's hand, "finish your hot chocolate, and we can make a start on at least getting you relaxed enough to sleep. We can work on your sleep hygiene once you've gotten some rest."

Egon nodded. It made sense. Sleep hygiene would mean trying to set a regular time for going to bed, and he was fairly sure Peter would not wish it to be 3am. The hot chocolate also was certainly beginning to make him sleepy.

"And bubeleh?" Peter's smile was beginning to return.

Egon arched a brow at the mischievous, diminutive endearment. "Yes, Peter?"

"Don't do that again."

**END.**


End file.
